


Lips and Lace

by ItekNashoba



Series: Gerlta Kink Exploration [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Lace Panties, M/M, Oral Sex, Wall Sex, plot if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 20:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItekNashoba/pseuds/ItekNashoba
Summary: Cute was not a word for an ancient nation like himself. He was a nation of rich history, gorgeous geography; home to some of the worlds greatest minds, man-made wonders, and lovers. The Great Rome had diligently seen to that Italy’s inheritance was desirable.So why wasn't he?





	Lips and Lace

Feliciano didn’t want Spain. No, Espana and Romano were made for each other, but rationalizing didn’t make his reflection less unnerving.

Romano had insisted he come over. “The tomato-bastard” was at the running of the bulls and Feliciano’s brother had been alone; who else to call but his fratello? The northern part of the country had been too happy to alleviate his boredom, but when a drunk Spain had stumbled home, pawing at Romano and “Ay mi corazon feel how you make my bull charge!”, it had all went to hell.

Of course, his brother had batted his lover away, “My brother’s right here you stupid tomato bastard,” and the older nation had relented, lamenting “Ay lo siento Vene!”. The man laid across Romano, words sloshed. “Too cute – too cute I must have scarred poor little Veneziano!”

The word etched in his mind. Cute. Italy had been called cute plenty of times in the past, but the way Spain had said it like he was a naive sex-less child bothered him. So much so, that he excused himself from the couple as soon as it would not seem suspicious, and made his way home, word popping resentfully into his mind. Cute. 

Cute was not a word for an ancient nation like himself. He was a nation of rich history, gorgeous geography; home to some of the worlds greatest minds, man-made wonders, and lovers. The Great Rome had diligently seen to that Italy’s inheritance was desirable. 

So why wasn’t he?

Flirting partners had usually called him cute at one point or another, but as he walked, he couldn’t recall any of them ever told him he was sexy. It could be because he hadn’t had sex with any of them, but still, the fact troubled him. 

Which is how he ended up in front of the wardrobe mirror in the room he shared with Germany, an uncommon scowl crossed his face, wrinkling his nose as he damned himself for ever having wandered into that store.

It was humiliating, and Italy avoided his own eyes as he inspected his body. He had never been self-conscious, he spent 85% of his time naked. Feliciano certainly didn’t think he was bad looking but like this? While he was no god, his smooth skin stretched unblemished over the expanse of his lean muscles. Perhaps his nipples were a little too pink and sensitive to be masculine; body hair too fine or light, but he thinks that could be erotic to the right person. Italy made a guilty whimper when his cock stirred in the lace and banished a flash of blonde hair and blue eyes and a strong German accent from his thoughts. Thinking of _him _would only make the situation worse.

Lace was sensuous and classic; it could make anything look a little sexier, he focused. Even him. It was a safe choice, the black. Not too daring or conspicuous; just a wide band of dark intricate lace. The girl at the boutique had called them ‘cheeky’ and he could certainly feel why. He wondered if he was just pale or if the fabric was really so sheer, seeing the outline of his manhood through the material. Though, he supposed it wasn’t necessarily made for him. The garment was made for curves, not angles, and didn’t sit in the same seductive manner the mannequin’s had. The way the panties rode at the junction of his groin and thigh made them bulge around his cock and pulled a bit too tight between his legs, lace stimulating the delicate skin of his sac and scrotum. Were they too small? Maybe if he pulled them up?

Hooking his fingers on the sides, he raised the panties further on his hips forcing the band into a v. The tops of his thighs more exposed made Italy think his legs looked a little longer and he turned from the mirror for a view of his backside, smiling a bit at the way the lace accentuated the dimples at the end of his spine. There wasn’t enough fabric left to cover his rear, but the cut rounded out his bottom and disappeared coyly between his cheeks. Italy blushed, yes, that looked much better.

“_Scheiße”_

Terror whipped him forward to come face to face with Germany. The blonde man was frozen in the wide-open doorway, jaw dropped in shock. His thick brow twitched, their eyes were locked and Italy knew his body had started shaking. How long had Germany been standing there?

Fight or flight seemed to have abandoned them both and Italy doesn’t want to think about how long they stared at each other. Germany had seen him in less but this was different, he thought. Italy had wanted to feel sexy and powerful. Instead, under the silent, intense gaze of the other man, he felt vulnerable and awkward. Wearing lacy black panties, of all things.

Yet, Germany was still his friend. Right? And he could ask friends questions even if they were tall and handsome and made him jealous of his fratello and stupid, drunk tomato eater. “Um- hey. Hey, Germany!” he swallowed. “How do I look? Do- do you think I look okay? Sexy, right?”

“What?“ Germany went rigid, redness spreading to his ears and down his neck. “Why would you ask me that?” He looked mortified and Italy found he could no longer look at him. _Of course that’s not the kind of thing you ask friends Italy!_

Italy closed his arms around himself, covering his chest and as much of his groin the width of his forearm could, knees shuffling. An unexpected tear rolled down his cheek and his fingers pricked with a horrible numbness. He wanted to go back in time and close the door. He wished he had stayed home, or if stupid Spain had kept his mouth shut. He could have continued through eternity completely content with his adorable but unsexy self and Germany wouldn’t be walking towards him with deliberate heavy steps that matched the pounding in his chest with an expression Italy didn’t understand.

Germany was too close and wouldn’t stop moving closer, Italy fretted. He didn’t stop until the smaller man was quite literally backed against the wall; heat coming off Germany’s skin just out of Italy’s reach. It was look up or look away and he thought the obvious aversion would make nothing better.

But Germany’s eyes were bored into Italy, waiting. “Italy,” the question was kind, yet stern. “Why did you ask me that?”

“I just-“ was there any way to say this without humiliating himself even more? “I realized I’ve never attracted _that_ kind of attention.” He felt pangs of doubt dart through his fingers. “People call me cute, but-“ he paused, panic dropping to a whisper. “I wanted to feel sexy.”

Germany’s brows gave a curious twitch. “But why ask me?” he paused. “You had to have had someone in mind – someone you,” his throat cleared and he flushed a bit. “Would like to see you this way. Why not go to them? Their opinion will be the one that matters.”

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” Italy fussed with his hands.

A single blonde eyebrow raised. “It’s my house, Italy – my room,” Germany reminded him. “You could have gone home.”

Italy felt ridiculous, knowing he was right. At his house, Italy could have examined himself to his heart’s content, but Germany had been the one he had in mind. Germany was home.

Italy had wanted to feel sexy because maybe someone like Germany, or maybe just Germany, would find him sexy. Because Germany’s opinion was the one that mattered. But he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

His body shook because _oh mio dio why_ _did he say that _but his mind was being overtaken by the sensation of massive hands warm on his abdomen and the heady scent of German aftershave _and oh…_

“You look _beautiful_,” is all Germany said before surging to seize his lips in a domineering kiss.

Air filled his nose with his last breath as he was overtaken. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the way Germany kissed; sultry and lingering. Those calloused hands _touched _in ways over his chest and back he hadn’t known were possible, leaving goosebumps in their wake. A whine escapes him when Germany brushes a nipple and he can feel the lips against his pull into a smile. He was weak and Germany’s rough fingers toyed along his waistband, and all Italy could think was he needed more; blindly fisting his hands in blonde’s dress shirt. Too soon though, he’s slowed and his lips move slowly like a question, tenderly worrying Italy’s bottom lips between them before he’s gone, nose to nose with haggard pants close enough to taste. It’s hell to be apart and the blonde man gives him a last peck before kneeling and Italy can’t breathe as because Germany is radiating heat down his body. On his knees, looking at Italy with overwhelming lust and –

“Can I show you how sexy you are?” was growled under hooded eyes.

Italy thought he lost his voice. There’s little time between his furious nod before pressure like damp sin is on the furthest regions between his legs, pushing his sac and swamping him in heat. His knees buckle but Germany is holding him steady at the hips and the man is somehow inching closer. Already impossibly hard from the kiss and now with Germany’s lips surrounding all of him, tongue relentless and solid fingers pressing into the design on his ass; he was teetering on the edge. He wouldn’t last much longer.

Filthy mewls and whines gurgle from Italy’s lips as the tongue moves over the bulge, tracing the patterns in the lace. Please and Germany and yes are the only words Italy remembers. But Germany moves those hands from ass and Italy wants to beg for them back only to feel them _lift, and oh._ Fingers indent the flesh of Italy’s thighs as Germany slides them down and with a shove against the wall, hauls the burnet’s slender legs over his biceps and perched them on his shoulders. Italy howls, hooking his ankles and flailing for fistfuls of blonde hair as he’s left suspended and defenseless. Germany’s ears are high on his thighs and the little burnet squeezes and bucks into his mouth. Sucks and deep gasps fill the air around them as Italy is mouthed and panties licked wet. He was jolted as Germany shifted his bulk to press the burnet further up the wall. Italy’s legs tightened around the blonde man’s head, lost in ecstasy when a hand left his ass and he heard the tell-tale sound of a zipper and moan against his cock.

_Oh mio dio Germany was touching himself._

Flashes of white took his vision when he came, nails surely leaving angry red marks in Germany’s scalp as he loses control. Italy can feel sticky cum trapped under lips and lace and he doesn’t know if his mantra of “Please Germany, please” is begging the man stop or give him more; but there’s a quickening slap of skin on skin from beneath him and it’s too soon after cumming for Italy to appreciate the interested twitch his cock gave as a mighty grunt resounded around him and Germany spilled.

With a last, tender kiss to his groin Italy was being lowered and engulfed, heaving as kisses sucked into his neck. Blonde hair tickled his ears as Germany’s lips caressed his skin, pressing his tongue to the tender flesh above the pulse. Falling forward he let himself be pulled skin to skin by corded arms, legs trembling on either side of Germany’s hips. They’re panting messes but Italy finally gets to hold and wastes no time reaching around the other man. Muscles strain under the thin dress shirt and Italy wondered how the skin beneath felt. There’s only a sliver exposed above his collar but it’s enough for his is fingertips dip inside and Italy wondered if sweat was sexy. He was starting to think so. From the way Germany’s thighs twitched against his ass, Italy thought he might agree.

Gentle strokes along his spine broke him from his thoughts. Italy turned against the shoulder to be met with warm eyes, but he couldn’t help a giggle. Gel had kept evidence of Italy’s hands and normally slicked hair stood in clumps. “I messed up your hair.”

Post-coital bliss looked good on Germany, Italy thought, because the man gave him a warm smile. The first Italy had ever seen with teeth. “I messed up your panties.”

“Ve~” he cooed, snuggling back into Germany’s neck. “Let’s do it again soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Italy 2: Lace


End file.
